And Death Shall Have No Dominion
by NephilimEQ
Summary: Giles is forced to deal with his true feelings towards Buffy after she has passed on...and he doesn't handle it well. PLEASE READ & REVIEW! I love my reviewers!
1. Distant Memories

**And Death Shall Have No Dominion**

_Summary_: The aftermath of Buffy's death and how Giles dealt with it, along with the feelings that came along with it.

_Rating_: R - Seriously. The first few chapters are PG-13ish, but then torture and pain abounds. (in the emotional way)

_Spoilers_: Spiral, Weight of the World, The Gift, Bargaining I & II

_Disclaimer_: I do not own any of these characters, though at times I wish...please, Joss, I beg you!

_Author_: E. Quackenbush aka NephilimEQ

_Author's Notes_: The character of James is pulled from Manchild...if you're an Anthony Stewart-Head fan, you know exactly what I'm talking about!

* * *

**Part 1 - Distant Memories**

Rupert Giles shifted uncomfortably in his airline seat, waiting somewhat impatiently as the airplane taxied into the gate.

There was only so much patience that he had for the infernal machines. How was it possible that it was able to get him from one end of the world to the other in a matter of hours, yet still be uncomfortable? It seemed logical that if you could make the machine in the first place, then you could at least make it comfortable.

He was relieved when he was finally allowed to stand up. As he stood, he felt his back pop. At least it was only one time.

Apparently his training had kept him in better shape than he'd realized.

He grabbed his one bag from the overhead bin, and then walked off the plane, his body weary from the trans-atlantic flight.

As he made his way through the terminal, he felt his body already adjusting to the time difference. It knew this place so very well, but it seemed, just for a moment, that it was a strange land. Nothing was quite the same as it had been before...and, for a brief while, he found himself missing the warm weather of Sunnydale.

He made his way towards the baggage claim to pick up the one bag that he'd had sent. He would send for the rest of his things at another time.

As he walked outside into the dark evening, he glanced around, seeming slightly confused. There was a light drizzle and the way it was reflected in the low level lights was disorienting.

He sighed as he made his way outside to the curb and held back the tears that suddenly threatened to fall without provocation.

The whole plane ride back had been pure torment for him, as his mind had played nearly every memory he had of Buffy back to him, dragging his controlled emotions to the surface. The first day he had met her, the first time he had seen her fight, the first time that they had averted an apocalypse together.

All of it ran around in his mind, taunting him, and was slowly pulling at his emotional walls until they were nothing but broken pieces.

But it was his last memory of her that tormented him the most.

He shook his head, and quickly got into the first available cab, grateful that it had shown up as it had started to snow, and he threw his one bag and his carry-on into the seat alongside him.

"To Bath, please. One-forty-seven Clearview Lane." The cab driver nodded, and then pulled away from the curb. It took all of Giles' reserve to not look back. Looking back might change his mind, and he couldn't change his mind now. Nothing in Sunnydale could hold him there any longer. Nothing.

As the driver took roads that were old and familiar to him, Giles watched the city go by and soon fade to countryside.

Though it was night, he still saw the old beauty that had been lost to his eyes for many years. Several times he wished that he could have brought Buffy here to see it.

She had always said that she loved California, but she had let slip once or twice that missed having the rain and snow that came with the seasons.

He reminisced for a brief moment and then turned his thoughts to the meeting with the Council that he had to look forward to. It was about the same as looking forward to having one's teeth pulled. But he knew that it was necessary...that didn't meant that he had to like it at all. Luckily he had a few days before he had to meet with them.

Not that a few days would make it any easier for him. In fact, all it did was draw out the painful process. Draw it out...just what he didn't want.

He thought for a moment about how they would react to the news. Giles doubted it would go over well.

Luckily Quentin wasn't the actual head of the Watcher's Council; he never had been. He remembered the last time that Buffy had faced Quentin Travers...it had been a, pardoning the pun, glorious moment.

Buffy. Everything always came back to her. It didn't matter how he tried to escape her memory, it was always there, lurking just beneath the surface, trying to break its' way through the surface. His hand brushed against the bag lying next to him on the seat and he slowly opened it, pulling out what seemed to simply be one of his oxford shirts.

But it wasn't. She had worn it only five days before the fight with Glory.

She had been in the back room and had needed to change into something suitable because her clothes had been torn apart by a demon, and he'd loaned her a shirt.

He remembered her grateful smile as she accepted it and then gone to change. When she'd come out it had sent a stab of emotion through him, but what it was he didn't know.

And now, as he brought the shirt close to him, he could still smell her. He intended to never wash the shirt again. He would never wear it again either. It was the only that he had of her really, besides a few small things that he'd carefully taken from her room without letting anyone else find out. He had almost nothing of hers.

Oh, he had weapons, but they weren't the same thing. Those could be used by any Slayer, but the things he had now reminded him not of the Slayer, but of Buffy.

He pulled out a small box and opened it up, revealing a ring nestled in the center. He brushed a finger against it and smiled.

One of her collection. It had been something of an obsession of hers, those rings. This one in particular. It was one that he'd given her for her nineteenth birthday. She'd worn it almost all the time.

At that thought, he was driven back into the depression of reality. That she would never need to borrow a shirt of his again, that she would never again tease him mercilessly about his fashion choices, that she would never buy a ring again...or wear his ever again. No, it was no longer possible. No longer...never.

Buffy was gone.

Giles couldn't stop a wry smile from creeping onto his face at the way he worded it in his mind. Not dead, but gone. As if she had simply disappeared. The words seemed to be less...final, than the word dead.

But he couldn't deny it anymore. She was dead, and nothing would change that this time.

* * *

**Part 1/?**


	2. Words and Silence

**Part 2 - Words and Silence**

It was nearly midnight when the cab arrived in front of his house. Giles stared at it, realizing how long it had been since he had seen it. Five years.

The cab driver let out a low whistle of surprise.

"Oi! That's _your_ place? I've always wondered 'oo owned it..." The cabbie's astonishment didn't surprise him. That was the reaction he was used to.

He ignored the comment and quickly paid the cabbie with the money that he had converted. He grabbed his two bags from the seat and then watched as the cabbie drove off, the taillights dimming until they looked like two pinpricks of light in the distance, fading away into the inky blackness of the night in the countryside.

As he turned and started up the pathway, the drizzle from before began to come down harder, seeming to take empathy with his mood. He soon arrived at his old front door, and knocked.

The door was opened by an elderly woman in her seventies, who merely looked at him with a sweet comforting smile.

"Rupert...I heard that you were coming home. Your room in the east wing is all set up. I have a light dinner waiting for you in the kitchen, but you look worn. Go sit in the foyer."

Giles smiled, placing his bags down, and watched as one of the manservants fetched them to take them up to his room on the second floor in the east wing. He was looking forward to seeing it again; it had a private entrance that went directly into the library and he was glad to have the chance to have some space once more.

"It's so good to see you again, Rose," he said with a genuine smile. "And thank you for having it ready."

She just waved him off, used to his flattering ways. "Oh, pish-posh. It was nothing. Now, let's get you out of that wet coat already."

She pulled his slightly damp coat off of his shoulders and placed it on the coat on the coat rack just inside the entryway. He paused for a moment to take in his surroundings, realizing that he had been away from home for too long because he found himself missing the sounds of the group and the noise that came from having a full life.

But it hadn't been. Buffy wasn't there.

He sighed, instead turning his thoughts to Rose, grateful that she was here. She would understand his need for silence. He had known Rose his whole life. When his mother had passed away when he was nine, she had become his surrogate mother.

He adored her, and was grateful that she had gone to all the trouble to get things ready for him.

He made his way into the front room that had been converted into a dining room, and walked over to the familiar fireplace that nearly covered the north wall. It was already lit and was casting a warm glow throughout the room, and the sight sent feelings of nostalgia through him. He remembered coming home every evening after school to sit in front of that fire.

As he looked into the flames he was reminded of a conversation that he and Buffy had shared last Christmas.

She had been feeling down, wishing that it had snowed, and he had wanted to cheer her up. He remembered it vividly in his mind's eye...

* * *

_She stood at the window next to his small fireplace in his apartment, staring out the window. Her face held the expression of deep disappointment at the fact that there was no snow on the ground._

_Giles walked over to where she stood, concern on his features. "Buffy, what's wrong?"_

_She let out a long sigh, as if she had been holding her breath. He watched as the expression on her face changed to one of deep longing, and he marveled at the fact that sometimes she was so easy to read and at others she was a complete enigma to him, absolutely confoundable._

_"I wish it would snow, Giles. It just doesn't seem like Christmas without snow."_

_He smiled, and then remembered a spell he had used once that he could use now to make her wish come true._

_He said nothing and continued to stand by her side, enjoying her company._

_Giles then muttered a few words in Latin under his breath and waited a moment. Suddenly, the room temperature dropped and Buffy looked around in surprise, wondering what had just happened. That was when he realized the pivotal mistake that he had just made and inwardly cursed himself._

_"Oh...damn."_

_Buffy heard him and looked at him with an arched eyebrow._

_Her voice was filled with wry amusement. "Giles, what did you do?"_

_A sheepish smile appeared on his face and then he finally admitted what he had tried to do. "I...well, I was trying to give you what you wanted, some snow, but I, um, I f-forgot that I had to, um, say it...outside." He gave her another apologetic smile, looking thoroughly embarrassed. "Sorry."_

_She just shook her head, and then she started to laugh as she saw that snow had fallen off her head._

_Buffy then looked at the snow that had piled on the floor and got a devilish smile. Giles knew that look...he was in trouble. Before he even knew what was happening, he had a handful of snow down his shirtfront. _

_After a few more minutes it was an all-out snow war._

_Before too long, Giles finally remembered the counterspell and muttered it quickly between getting pelted with very accurately thrown snowballs by his Slayer. The room warmed up in mere moments and the snow, which had been there in abundance moments before was now gone._

_Buffy continued to smile, and Giles reveled in it, loving being on the receiving end of one of her thousand-watt smiles..._

* * *

He was shaken out of his reverie as Rose walked back into the room bearing a tray laden with two large rolls of bread, which were still warm, and a large bowl of her famous vegetable stew.

She put it down on the long table in the center of the room, which was decorated with candles. They cast a soft glow on the warm and polished wood of the oak table.

Giles nodded and sat down, looking forward to the hot meal after the piteous airline fare. He took an eager bite of the bread and he audibly moaned. It was Rose's homemade sourdough...his favorite. As he chewed, he realized that Rose had an ulterior motive in making him his favorite...it wasn't just because he was home.

He ignored that fact and instead immersed himself in his meal, glad for the distraction from his depressing thoughts.

As his stomach was filled, his thoughts slowly crept back in, attempting to pull him down once more in the same way that they had before.

As Giles was finishing his meal, Rose walked back in with another tray. This one held a pot of tea and two cups, along with a small bowl of sugar.

She gave him a knowing look as she filled both of their cups with the hot liquid and then sat down in the chair directly across from him. He knew that look altogether too well. It was one that had a way of getting him to talk; he had vivid memories of coming home past curfew and her using that look on him. He knew that it would simply be wisest for him to surrender to the inevitable.

"Rupert...would you like to talk about it?" she asked, genuine concern lacing her words.

He wanted to say no, but he knew that she would pry it out of him whether he wanted to talk about it or not, so he gave in.

"Honestly, no, but I feel that I have no choice in the matter..." He gave her a look, and then continued. "And that I need to."

She merely nodded, doing what she had always done so well. Listen. Rose had always listened and provided advice when it was needed...and even when people didn't want to hear it. It was something that he cherished about her and it was what he needed at that point, even though he hated to admit it.

He stood up from his chair and walked over to the fireplace, teacup in his hand, and leaned against the mantel, wondering where to start.

She watched him and couldn't help but wonder what went on in that brilliant mine of his.

As she stared, she admired the pleasant picture that he made. One arm resting on the mantel, white shirt-sleeves rolled up, and his other hand in the pocket of his dark jeans. His eyes were closed, his jaw firmly set.

She had always known that he was a handsome man; she was not blind to it. She had observed throughout the years the way that many a young lady threw themselves at him, but he had never noticed their advances...or if he had, he hadn't been interested, and his actions had broken many a heart.

She knew that his Slayer had died, and knowing Rupert, he was most likely blaming himself for it, like he did with most things.

He finally opened his eyes and turned to look at her after taking a sip of his tea and placing it back on top of the mantel. His hand that had been holding it had now insinuated itself into his pocket.

He took a deep breath and started to speak. Rose sat back, knowing that it would be a while.

"I've devoted my whole...life, to one thing: to train and aid the Slayer. One girl in all the world..." He paused, finally realizing the full impact of that phrase, the true meaning of it finally hitting home. He continued. "And even though there won't be a new one since she's defied prophecy, even if there _was_...I would want nothing to do with her."

Rose watched as he collected his thoughts once more. "Buffy was the finest to ever live. Ever. And now that she's gone...I feel empty, lost."

He saw that she was about to ask him a question, so he quickly countered it before it came.

"It-It's not that I don't believe that Slayer is important anymore, I _do_. It's...it's because it was _Buffy_ that I lost, not just the Slayer..."

She watched as he began to pace while running a hand through his hair. His hand went to his glasses, removing them and placing them in the front pocket of his shirt. This left his eyes exposed, allowing her to see his true emotions, the ones that even he didn't understand completely.

A slow smile appeared on her face and she decided to let her instinct take over. "Rupert, how did you feel about her?"

He shrugged, his emotions conflicting, unsure of what she meant exactly.

"I-I admired her, certainly. I respected her. I...I cared for her as an individual. I just...I'm not entirely sure how to explain it. It was paternal, of sorts, in the first year, but after she defeated the Master, things...well, they changed. There was always a...I guess it was camaraderie of sorts. We saw each other as equals..."

His voice trailed off, and she couldn't help but grin. For such an observant man he could be so blind sometimes. Rupert always had problems when it came to explaining his emotions.

Rose gestured for him to sit back down. He hesitantly did so, giving her an inquisitive look.

She placed her hand gently on top of his, reassuring him in his unspoken question, and then smiled. The question fell from her lips.

"Rupert...when Buffy died, what did it feel like? What was your strongest emotion?"

He tilted his head in that certain way of his that always let her know that he was deep in thought. After a few long ponderous moments, he answered. "I felt...I felt as though, when she..." He had a hard time saying the word. "..._died_, a part of myself died with her. Something that I'll never get back. My strongest emotion was..."

He paused, thinking, and then a look of shock passed across his face.

"Regret." The word was quiet, but in the silent room it sounded like a gunshot. "I felt regret."

She nudged his hand gently, urging him to continue. When he didn't, she asked him. "Why?"

He looked up at her and she could see unshed tears glistening in his eyes. "I regret not spending more time with her. Never...never telling her how much I admired her strength and resilience. Never telling her how much she strengthened myself. How much I...I..." His voice trailed again.

Rose gave him an understanding look. "How much you loved her?"

Giles lowered his head, shocked at the emotions that were overwhelming him and threatening to let loose in heady current of tears.

"H-How did I not know...?" He whispered the words, more to himself than to her.

He finally raised his eyes to the woman in front of him that he thought of as a mother, and suddenly everything that he'd been feeling since his Slayer's death seemed to fall into place. The pain, the deep seeded guilt that he felt about her jumping off the tower...everything that had led him up to that point.

"Thank you, Rose." She merely smiled and gave his hand a quick reassuring squeeze.

He watched as she got up and left the room, feeling as though everything had hit him all at once, which it had.

A glance at the clock told him that it was late, so he decided to go to his room and see if he could sleep. He needed it.

As he entered his room, he could hold out no longer. He did something he hadn't done in years...he cried. He completely broke down, falling to his knees as huge racking sobs shook his usually solid and unmovable frame. He managed to crawl over to the bed, pull out the shirt from his bag, and then drag himself on top of the covers...and cried himself to sleep.

* * *

**Part 2/?**


	3. Relative Changes

**Part 3 - Relative Changes**

The next morning broke to a rainy dawn. The sun was rising, but couldn't be seen behind the gray curtain of the clouds.

Rupert Giles woke up to the smell of Buffy in his bed. He turned on the covers, hoping to see a blonde head beside him and then realized that it was merely the shirt that he had grabbed from the night before. Another pleasant aroma made its' way to his senses of freshly brewed tea, along with sausage, pancakes, and...yes, biscuits and gravy.

He lay on his bed, still dressed in his clothes from the night before, wondering whether or not he should get up.

His stomach suddenly grumbled at him, making the decision for him.

He reluctantly pulled his protesting body out of the bed and walked downstairs, heading towards the room from the previous night.

As he walked into the dining room, he was surprised to see who was already sitting at the table. The man sat there looking as though it were the most natural thing in the world, when it had been at least several years since he had even laid eyes on the man, let alone seen him in the house.

It was his twin brother. James.

James looked up from the book that he was reading and saw Rupert standing just inside the doorway, looking as though he had slept in his clothes.

"Rupert! You're awake! It's good to see you, brother." In the time that he had spoke, he had made his way from his chair over to his brother and enveloped him in a welcoming hug.

Giles stood there in shock. He hadn't seen his brother in over five years...and the last time he'd seen him he had been in London chasing after any woman in a skirt under the age of twenty-three. To suddenly see him here after all these years acting as though he had seen him just the other day was a bit of a turn for him.

He pulled back from the hug, staring his brother James in the face.

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with my brother?" he asked, genuinely worried. The last time that he'd seen him they hadn't even been on speaking terms, let alone hugging ones.

James suddenly realized what was bothering his brother and immediately explained.

"Look, it's really me. I promise. I've just..._changed_ in the last few years, is all. Please...join me for breakfast?" He then gave Rupert a look that said he would explain it all, allowing him to relax somewhat, but not entirely as he was still wary of the fact that this was his brother he was talking about.

Giles sat down where he had been sitting only eight hours before, and filled his plate with something of each.

He continued to look at his brother, though, as if he had two heads. James ignored it, and started finishing what was left on his own plate.

Giles slowly ate through two pancakes, and then stopped. He put down his knife and fork, and then stared at his brother.

"Okay, are you going to explain what you're doing here, and why?" The look that he gave his brother was one of pure distrust, and James wasn't surprised. The last time they actually _had _spoken, they had come to blows...they were lucky that the table that they were sitting at had been able to be fixed.

James sighed, and finally gave in to his brother's steely gaze.

"Fine. Three years ago, I met someone. And before you ask," he said, putting his hands up in protest to what he knew his brother would say, "I didn't meet her at a catwalk or at a bar. We met and we...well, we actually talked."

Rupert arched an eyebrow at him, skeptical. James sighed yet again, but continued.

"I know it's hard to believe, but it happened. We met, of all places, at a museum in Spain. I was there with with my friend Michael, and when I first met her I was going to, well, you know." The look on Rupert's face told him that he understood. "Anyway...she seemed like the easy type. I started talking to her so that I could get her to like me, and instead we ended up talking for hours, until four in the morning, and-"

Rupert cut him off. "Is there a point to this, or should I just throw you out of the house?"

James, unsurprised by his brother's actions, just gave him a pleading look. "I promise there's a point. Just bear with me?"

Giles sighed, and then nodded. James thanked the gods above that his brother was a patient man.

"Thank you. Well, apparently during our entire time talking we'd never, I mean not even _once_, exchanged names. I left that afternoon and figured I'd never see her again. Six months later I ran into her as I was walking to my flat. Apparently she'd just moved in, not knowing anyone in the area. We started meeting every now and then for lunch, about once a week. Then we met for a dinner, and then we went dancing...Well, one thing led to another and before I knew it I had been seeing her, and _only_ her, for _five months_ and I hadn't even fucked her..."

Rupert grimaced at his brother's crude language, but allowed him to continue.

"No one knew about her. None of my friends knew. For some reason I hadn't told them, but they knew something was up. I'd given up smoking and was no longer a part of the prowling crowd..."

At that point, Giles could see the sincerity in his brother's words and wondered what this was leading up to.

"Well...Michael finally confronted me about it and I spilled. Told him everything. I think he thought that I was making her up." He paused for a moment, wondering how he had ever been friends with that man. "Anyway, I finally introduced her to them and things went...well, they went rather well. Which is rather surprising..."

Giles was getting rather impatient, and it was obvious in the way that he was absentmindedly tapping his knife against the side of his plate.

James noticed this, so he quickly finished.

"Well, the whole point is...I'm married now. Running on nearly two years...and I'm loving every minute of it."

Giles looked at his brother in shock, unaware of the knife falling from his hand, not sure if he had actually heard the words correctly. He would have bet good money that his brother would never marry, yet here he was being proven wrong. And now he noticed the silver wedding band on his brother's left hand and felt like an idiot for not noticing it before.

"So," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "What brings you here, James?"

At these words, James' face became clouded. He ducked his head and attempted to explain. He also began to stutter, which he hadn't done in years.

"W-Well, I heard about your S-Slayer. About what happened. I thought th-that...y-you might want to, well, um, talk about it."

The look of surprise that he had given his brother earlier now returned to his face, disbelieving at what he was hearing. "I thought you didn't care about all this stuff anymore." His voice was laced with bitterness as he spoke, and James winced at the severity of his brother's words. Rupert was always able to convey such strong emotion in very few words.

He was hesitant to speak. "Yes," he said slowly. "There was a time when I wouldn't have cared, but since I met Evalyne, I've changed. I actually, um...went _back_ to the Council."

He watched his brother carefully, gauging his reaction.

Rupert raised his eyes to his brother's. "You...you went back to the Council?"

He nodded, fearing the worst, as he knew his brother hated them. But Rupert surprised him. "How did you explain it to Evalyne?" At that question, a grin appeared on James face, leaving Giles a bit bewildered as to why his estranged brother was reacting in such a way to a very serious question.

"I didn't have to. She's a practicing witch...she didn't tell me at first, afraid I would think she was crazy, but when she did I realized that she had to be registered with the Council...and she was. I got lucky."

Giles nodded, deep in thought. He absentmindedly sipped his tea that was with his meal, barely tasting it.

James watched in agitation, waiting for his brother to say something.

Suddenly, Rupert placed his cup down and lifted his eyes to his brother's. Green eyes met green eyes, no anger or distrust in either of them. Giles then tilted his head towards his brother and his eyes went soft. As he spoke, the words were quiet but full of absolute sincerity.

"Thank you for coming," was all he said.

* * *

**Part 3/?**


	4. Check and Mate

**Part 4 - Check and Mate**

It was mid-day and Rose had searched around the entire house, which was rather large, trying to find the boys.

She finally peeked into the library and smiled at the sight that was presented to her.

Each one of them sat in a soft leather chair on either side of a chess board, talking. Their tones were almost identical and their movements very similar.

Someone watching them would have assumed that they were very close, and probably near inseparable, though the fact was the opposite was true...for the time being. She had a feeling that things were going to work out between them. When they were children they _had_ been nigh unto inseparable.

She slowly closed the door behind her, walking down the hall to James' room.

As she began to strip the sheets from the bed, she saw the picture. On the bedside table was a picture of a young woman, around her mid-twenties, leaning back into James' arms.

She couldn't see the girl's face, as the picture showed an interesting angle of James' back with his arms wrapped around the young woman, his face in profile, her head leaning against his shoulder. His face held a look of complete rapture, as if he were staring into heaven itself.

She quickly deduced that it must be his wife, whom she'd never met.

Whoever the girl was, she'd been a force of nature for good, turning James into the man that Rose had always known he could be.

Rose finished taking the sheets off the bed, and handed them to the maidservant who had just walked into the room, and departed with a small smile on her face.

* * *

"So," said James, moving his knight further up the board. "You had no idea abut how you felt about her until last night?" Giles nodded, staring intently at the board, trying to figure out what his next move would be. In chess they were about evenly matched, and he wasn't going to let his guard down.

He finally moved a piece. "Check."

James looked down at the board and then moved his king. "Was it hard? You know, realizing it too late?"

Giles began to respond. "Well, I guess so. It was more-"

He suddenly cut himself off, suddenly sitting straight up, and he tilted his head slightly, as if listening to something in the distance.

At first he thought he'd said something wrong, but suddenly James felt something stirring in his gut, almost like a low vibration, causing him to sit up as well. But it soon escalated to a stabbing pain that shot through his abdomen with all the subtlety of a hot skewer. He doubled over at the waist, crying out in pain at the severe sensation.

It finally receded, and so he looked up at his brother, gasping for breath. "What...what the...what the _bloody hell_ was _that_?"

His brother was also slightly out of breath, but looked to be handling the pain better than James. Giles looked at James in shock. He shouldn't have been able to feel it.

He knew exactly what it was. It was the vibration of dark magicks being used from a great distance. He could feel it because he was connected, but James shouldn't have.

"Are you telling me that you felt that?"

James looked at his brother as though he were a complete imbecile. "No, I just felt like doubling over in pain just for the hell of it! What do you _think_ I bloody meant? Of course I fucking felt that!" He rubbed his midsection, trying to ease the residual ache from the initial pain, hoping that it would go away soon.

Giles decided to let the coven in Devon deal with it. If he had felt it, then he knew that they had.

He looked back down at the board and quickly moved a piece.

"Checkmate."

James looked at him in surprise, trying to understand the mercurial change in his brother's attitude, but deciding not to question it. He looked down at the board...yes, it was a checkmate.

He finally straightened and watched as his brother was up from his seat and walking to one of the many bookshelves that lined the library's walls. What he was going for, James honestly didn't know. They had too many books to count, and, at least as far as he knew, they weren't arranged in any particular order.

Something was most definitely up. "Rupert, what's wrong?" James looked at his brother in trepidation, recognizing his brother's look of desperation.

Rupert didn't answer, instead reaching for a book on the bottom shelf nearest to the reading desk and began to rifle through it.

James couldn't see the cover, but he had the feeling that it wasn't one of his ordinary classics.

Suddenly, Rupert's face paled. This was a reaction that he'd never seen before in his brother, and never expected to see. But it confirmed his suspicions that something was wrong, and he had a feeling that it had something to do with magic. When it came to magic, his brother was severely protective and fierce.

He walked over to his brother, placing a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Rupert..." His voice was soft and unassuming as he repeated the question he had spoken only moments before. "What's wrong?"

Giles shook his head, glancing once more at the book in his hands before answering his brother.

He spoke, the words coming out slightly broken and disjointed. "It-it's a spell...a-a restoration spell..." His voice drifted and his eyes stared out the window as if he was seeing something that no one else could. It disturbed James more than he cared to admit, not that he would ever tell Rupert that.

"What are you talking about, Rupert?"

Giles shook his head, clearing and organizing his thoughts before answering. It was complicated and he didn't want to disturb his brother any more than he already had been. He finally spoke.

"You said that you had felt that jolt earlier? Tell me exactly what it felt like, James. Don't leave anything out."

His brother gave him an odd look, but went ahead and described it. "Like a, a hot skewer straight in the stomach...exactly like one, actually, or, well, as I imagine one would feel. Why do you ask, Rupert?" His brother didn't answer, instead falling silent once more. James waited a moment, but Rupert still didn't answer.

Giles finally broke the silence. "Did you feel anything else? Anything at all?"

James thought for a moment, sitting back into his chair, thankful for its' supporting solidity behind him. He rubbed a hand absently against his abdomen, which was still sore.

He racked his brain, trying to remember if he'd felt anything else, anything that _wasn't_ excruciating pain. Wait a minute...

James lifted his head. "Yes...as a matter of fact, I think I did." Rupert looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. James continued. "It was a...a connection of some kind, but it was extremely faint. Like a dimmer had been turned on in a room down a hallway, and I could just barely see a glimmer of light."

He then shrugged, realizing he was probably not making any sense, but at his words his brother sank down onto the couch just on the other side of the chairs, as if unable to stand.

He got up and walked over to Rupert, wondering what was wrong.

"Rupert...what's wrong?" His brother remained silent, unable to put to words what he had just realized.

Giles was silent for a moment, and then lifted his eyes to his brother's, his face drawn tight. "James...my Slayer's alive."

* * *

**Part 4/?**


	5. Heaven's Gate

**Part 5 - Heaven's Gate**

His brother looked at him in shock, not quite believing what Rupert had just said.

James shook his head. "Look, Rupert...I know how much you miss her, but she's not-" He was cut off by an impatient gesture of his brother's hand.

Giles started to speak, a tremor in his voice. "James, I know it sounds impossible, but she's alive. You need to understand something..." By now the tremor was gone from his voice, and he sounded confident as he spoke. "When Buffy died, the bond that we shared, the one between Watcher and Slayer, was cut off. I know this because I could no longer feel her."

James looked at his brother incredulously, not quite believing what he was hearing, but he continued to listen.

"But whatever happened just now...I can feel her again. What you felt was a part of that connection." James started to ask why, but Rupert was ahead of him. "You felt it because of our bond, as twins. There was some, uhm, transfer between the two of us."

Everything started to fall into place, and James was finally understanding what was going on. "So this means that Buffy is..."

Giles nodded his head. "Yes."

The weight of the words sunk in, and he realized that somehow, _some_one, _some_where, had brought the Slayer back...but the question was: Why?

Giles slowly stood up from the couch and made his way over to the window, a solemn look on his face. He now knew that his Slayer, his Buffy, was alive. There was no question about who had done it in his mind. It had been Willow. She had waited until he was out of the picture to do it, and he hated her for it.

There was only one thing to do: He was going back to Sunnydale.

They said that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, but hell had never met this man's fury. He was going to wait until Willow called, because he knew that she would. It was her chance to show off, of course.

James watched his brother and saw a steely determination in his eyes, and he knew his brother was going back.

He reached out a hand. "Rupert...let me come with you. I'd like to help...if you'll let me."

Rupert raised his eyes, trying to understand his brother's intentions, but only found honesty in his eyes. He really wanted to help him, and Giles was going to let him. At that thought, Giles realized that he wouldn't be able to contain Willow by himself. She had tasted the dark magicks, so he would need someone else to aid him.

He moved his body from the window and withdrew a cell-phone from deep in one of his pockets and handed it to his brother.

"James...call your wife. She'll need to come with us."

Without hesitation, his brother dialed, and by doing so he was setting into motion a series of events that were bound to change their lives forever.

* * *

Rupert Giles sat in first class, alongside his brother, unable to sleep.

Yes, Willow had called and she had said that Buffy was back. But she neglected to tell him everything, he knew that much. There was something else going on.

He glanced over at his brother, who was fast asleep, an empty glass in front of him on his tray.

Giles envied his brother for the sleep which came so easy for him, but eluded him completely. The night sky outside of his window was pulling at him, the stars seeming to beckon him to them, calling him to them. For a moment, he thought he heard a voice, Buffy's voice, calling to him from the burning lights.

He shook his head, attempting to clear it. It was obvious that he needed to sleep. He tried to move into a more comfortable position, but his body denied him comfort.

Nothing was coming to him tonight. Not answers, not comfort, not sleep. All he wanted was relief.

'And to know that she's alright,' he finished within his mind.

He wondered, briefly, if Willow had even done anything to find out where Buffy really was before she pulled her back into the world.

He knew of spells that allowed the living to contact the dead, but knowing Willow, she had assumed something and then decided not to try anything that might convince her, or anyone else, that the opposite might be true. Oh lord...though it was horrible to think, Giles hoped that Buffy had been in a hell dimension. To think of the other...he wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to forgive Willow if the opposite were true.

All he wanted was to be able to hold Buffy in his arms, to hold her as though she were the only thing in his world.

He finally managed to sleep, but it was full of restless dreams of watching Buffy pull away from him, and running into the night, away from where she was safe.

As the plane landed, he was wide awake, and James finally woke up.

The soon disembarked, and headed towards the terminal, where James had one bag, and Giles had none. The bag held supplies, and with James' Council card, he was allowed to transport them.

There was enough time for them to get a cab back to his old apartment, which he hadn't had the heart to sell or rent out. He opened the door with some trepidation, preparing himself for the memories that he knew would threaten to overwhelm him the instant that he stepped across the threshold.

James, not noticing Rupert's distress, walked through the doorway ahead of his brother, not wanting to wait any longer. He threw his bags unceremoniously on the floor next to the couch.

He turned back to Rupert, noting that he still hadn't moved. "Rupert?"

Giles suddenly snapped back to reality at hearing James' voice. He forced himself through the door and walked over to his kitchen dropping his bags next to the chairs.

He pulled out a kettle that he'd left in one of the cupboards, and pulled out some tea that was also still there. He needed the routine.

James watched his brother for a moment, and soon realized that Rupert was nowhere near prepared to deal with the fact that his Slayer was alive. It was that, or something else was going on that he didn't know about. He decided not to ask, and focused on pulling out some supplies for the spell for later.

Giles finally spoke, his voice drifting from the kitchen. "So, when is Evalyne due to arrive?"

James quickly responded. "Her plane lands in an hour, and she knows the way here, so in a couple hours or so she'll actually be here, and we can get started."

He waited for a response, but got none. There was one topic of discussion used up. They needed something more, or else this would be a very awkward stay.

Giles left the tea to steep, and headed up the stairs to his bed. It was a good thing he'd never sent for his stuff. Everything was pretty much the same.

He lay down on top of the covers, and before he even realized it, he was out.

* * *

Giles looked around himself, wondering what was going on, seeing nothing but whiteness. His body felt light, as though it had practically no mass whatsoever.

Then he heard something. A voice... "Giles...Giles...Giles..."

It was Buffy. He knew her voice anywhere. He turned his head, trying to see where she was...and suddenly she was right in front of him, more air than anything else.

He could barely hold back the tears. "Oh god, Buffy." He reached for her, and she embraced him in her arms, holding him as the tears finally fell. He finally pulled back, realizing what was going on. "I'm dreaming, aren't I?" She nodded, not speaking a word, but she didn't need to; he could spend his entire life lost in her eyes.

She reached a tender hand up towards his face, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. "Giles...you need to know. I don't trust anyone else...you're the only one I trust."

He lifted his hand to hers, tenderly holding it, and then she dropped her hand, lightly gripping his fingers in hers.

"They don't know, Giles...but you _need_ to know." The conviction in her voice was strong, and he had a feeling that what she was about to tell him was important.

He stared at her, and then watched as she drew him to her, using her other hand to draw his head down to her own. She rested her temple against his, while holding his hand and keeping her other hand on the back of his neck.

Images suddenly flooded his mind, and he gasped at the severity of the emotion that seemed to just pour through them. He felt the pain of suffocation, of electricity coursing through his body, an unstoppable current. Then, suddenly, he was standing in a field. He felt a soft breeze blowing across his face, and watched as the grass moved with the wind.

He watched as the sun seemed to shimmer across the moving waves of grass, a feeling of peace washing through him.

Then he saw, a little ways away, a low wooden fence. He walked towards it, wondering where he was.

A young man approached him, shimmering directly out of thin air. He seemed somewhat familiar...was that...? Yes, it was Doyle, the young man who worked for Angel at one point.

He spoke. "Hello, Buffy."

"Where am I?" Giles heard her respond, but didn't see her, and then he realized that he was seeing it all from her perspective. Doyle just smiled, and turned and motioned towards the fence. It was obvious that he wanted her to follow him, and Giles felt his body following, without even doing anything.

They approached a simple wooden gate. Doyle smiled. "You're going to your reward, like we all do in the end."

Giles heard Buffy's voice once more, her confusion evident. "We? Who's we?"

Doyle chuckled. "Why, those who help keep the worlds in balance, of course. As a Slayer, you deserve it more than anyone else." He motioned towards the gate. "This is yours to open. You're the only one who can."

Giles once more felt himself moving forward and touching the worn wood. He heard Buffy's voice again. "Is this...heaven?" Doyle laughed, and turned away, making his way along the fence, fading as he spoke his parting words. "Now you're getting the idea, Slayer...enjoy your reward..."

Giles felt himself move forward and he began to open the wooden gate...until suddenly he was wrenched out, and found himself gasping for breath in a tightly enclosed space, and then felt the pain of the skin on his knuckles breaking as he broke through the barrier before him.

That was when he saw the headstone...And then he woke up.

Oh dear lord...no, not this. Anything but this. Now that he knew and was aware of the truth, he felt the revulsion boil in his stomach. He barely made it to the bathroom downstairs in time.

He let his body empty itself of the contents of his stomach, dry heaving for a while even after he was done.

Giles leaned against the porcelain, his mind still reeling at the fatal truth.

Buffy had been in heaven...and she was taken from it.

* * *

**Part 5/?**


	6. Hell's Back Door

**Part 6 - Hell's Back Door**

* * *

James found his brother asleep on the floor of the bathroom, and he reached out a hand to his forehead, making sure there wasn't any fever.

No fever. So, his brother wasn't sick...but something had made him react this way.

James gently roused Rupert into a state of semi-consciousness and led him back up the stairs to his bed. As he placed the Watcher on the bed, Evalyne showed up.

She had arrived an hour ago, but Rupert had been asleep, so they had decided to let him get some rest. James knew that his brother hadn't slept well on the plane trip, and this was the longest he'd slept in a quite a while. James watched as Evalyne placed a cool washcloth against his brother's head.

"He's not sick, Evie."

She turned to him, a soft look on her face. "No...but he will be if he keeps on doing this self-flagellation."

James gave her a confused look, so she explained.

"You told me that he felt regret when his Slayer died, right?" James nodded, and she continued. "Well, what's going on with him, is that now that she's back, he's going to be upset at himself for not being there, and then he'll continue to try and find more and more ways that it was his fault. You do the same thing."

James looked at his wife in surprise, but as he thought about it he realized that she was right.

She pulled the cloth away, placing it back into the small basin, her hands automatically going through the motions, as though she'd done it many times before.

James' mind suddenly remembered when she'd last done something like this...after his initiation back into the Council.

He shuddered as he remembered the barrage of testing that he'd gone through. He still had scars from the experience, and the only reason that they weren't as bad as they could have been, was solely because of Evie. She had carefully doctored him when he had come home that night, still trembling with the aftereffects.

His whole body twitched at the memory. He shook it off. It didn't help to dwell on bad memories.

He left the open room and walked down the stairs, but was halted as he heard his brother's voice drift from the loft. "Buffy..."

Without hesitation, James went back into the room and to his brother's side. It seemed that his brother being weakened brought out his true instinctual feelings towards him.

He watched as Rupert slowly sat up, looking in confusion at his surroundings.

Giles was confused, his mind hazy, and as he tried to concentrate on what was around him, a low throbbing pain made its' presence known across the base of his skull. He moved his hands towards the pain, a soft groan escaping his lips at the throbbing grew, forcing himself to lay his head back down to the pillow.

"Buffy..." That was all that he could say at the moment, the only thing in his thoughts.

James spoke to him, his tones soft so as not to bother him. "Rupert...Evie's here. We'll do the spell once you get better..."

He was cut off by a wave of his brother's hand. "No, no, no...we, we don't need to do the spell. She came to me...she showed me. I know where she was..."

* * *

Buffy Summers bolted upright in her bed. She had just had a vivid dream that she'd gone to Giles and shown him what had really happened to her.

She ran a shaky hand through her hair, trying to calm her nerves at once more having to relive the memory of breaking through her coffin and having to dig her way out of her grave.

But this time she'd remembered parts that she hadn't really remembered before...one of them being that Doyle had been there.

Buffy turned and threw her legs over the edge of the bed, trying to regroup her rampant and rampaging thoughts. Everything was falling apart. None of her friends knew it, but everything really was falling apart. She pretended to be strong and to cope, for their' sakes at least, but the truth was that she was barely keeping her head above water.

She stood up and walked over to the window, staring out at the now just barely lighted sky.

For once, she was seeing a sunrise that wasn't at the end of a long night of slaying. It was refreshing in a way, but it did nothing to take away the ache inside.

She knew exactly why she'd had that dream. She wanted to tell him...God, how she wanted to tell Giles where she'd been.

Willow had called him, so she knew that he was going to be home eventually...Oh no. She thought about what she had just thought to herself.

'Home? Is that what I think of this place?' She knew that she hadn't felt that it was home ever since she'd been back, but the thought of him coming back suddenly made her revert back to form. She was calling where she lived a 'home', and not just a house. She thought about it a bit longer and then drew in a sharp breath.

No, that's not what it was.

It wasn't that the house had changed...it was who was going to be in it. It was how she felt about him. He was home.

He was everything that she couldn't have. Everything that she wanted. And he was gong to be back. In her life. But the real question was...how was she going to handle it?

She sighed, and got up from the bed, walking over to the window and opening it up.

She moved herself onto the roof of the porch, making herself comfortable. She looked up at the sky, staring at the moon, hoping that Giles was looking up at the same moon as she was.

The thought seemed to permeate her entire frame, causing her to shiver. Good lord, she couldn't believe that he was coming back. All she wanted was for him to come back...that was all she wanted. She wanted to tell him everything, not hide anything from him, because she needed him to know.

Good lord, she _needed_ him to know. No matter how hard it would be to tell him.

He was everything to her and the fact that he might actually leave after being here...no, she couldn't think about it. Only think about the definite.

He'd be there.

With that thought, she went downstairs and grabbed the keys to the Magic Box, leaving a note on the counter saying where she'd gone. She needed to get her mind off of things, and some training seemed to be just the right thing for her at that moment. She had to keep herself occupied, or else everything would get to her...and she'd breakdown once more.

She didn't need that.

Grabbing her coat off the back of a chair, she walked out the door, into the night.

* * *

James watched as Rupert got out of bed, still trying to process the information that he'd just been told.

Giles gave a slight grunt as he stood up, his muscles protesting slightly. Who knew that throwing up actually caused a person to have sore abdominals?

He stood in front of his dresser and pulled open the top drawer, pulling out some clean boxers. He desperately needed to change. At that point, he became aware of his brother and the fact that he was still in the room. Giles turned his head, raised an eyebrow, and his brother quickly vacated the area.

With that, he pulled on some clean clothes and then rifled through the one bag that he had, looking for his keys to the Magic Box.

There was only one way to find out whether or not his dream was real, and the ingredients for the spell, along with the spell-book itself, were both at the store.

Within a few moments, he was ready to go.

James was waiting for him at the base of the stairs, and the look in his eyes as his brother descended was filled with concern.

He watched as his brother completely ignored him and headed straight for the door, grabbing his coat from the back of the couch as he went. James quickly walked over to him, placing a hand on Rupert's shoulder, trying to stop him. "Rupert...what do you think you're doing?"

Giles turned to look at him, and then turned right back around, breaking free of the hold on his shoulder and walked out the door, into the night.

* * *

Evalyne had watched him leave and had felt the Slayer leave her own home not too long ago.

She stared out the window and wrapped her arms around herself.

She felt James' hands on her shoulders, but she said nothing. A line of a poem came into her mind.

_'They continue to burn / __at heaven's gate in starry skies / unburdened by the truths / that in the darkened night lies / hell's back door...'_

At this recollection, she began to silently pray for them. As she silently prayed, she reached for her husband's hand on her shoulder, needing the reassurance of her lover's touch, needing the grounding. She knew that things would get worse before they got better, but, hopefully, the darkness would pass quickly.

* * *

**Part 6/?**


	7. My Eternal Ward

**Chapter 7 - My Eternal Ward**

Buffy pounded into the bag, losing herself to a rhythm that she'd learned long ago on a library floor.

Each hit that she landed made a deep thudding sound, echoing her innermost thoughts. Every blow was a balm to her soul and she was able to draw comfort from the familiarity of it.

Her mind wandered back to the times where Giles had shown her how to do the moves that she was doing.

As her mind wandered, her moves became less focused and had less impact against the bag. She realized that she was losing interest in the physical activity. She pulled away from the bag, unwrapping the ace bandages from her hands and wrists, putting them back where they were supposed to go.

As she put them into the drawer, she caught a glimpse of the drawer beneath it. The one where Giles kept the daggers.

She pushed the open drawer closed and reached for the handle of the other one. Buffy ran a hand across the hilt of one of Giles' favorite blades. It had a solid weight as she lifted it in her hand, and for a brief moment she thought she could feel the residing warmth of his hand from so long ago, from when his fingers had last grasped it.

She gripped it tightly, feeling the textured grip dig slightly into her palm.

The weight made her wish that he was there with her. God, how she wished that he was there at that moment.

As though a silent answer to her wish, she heard the door, through which she had walked through only ten minutes before, open.

"Buffy..."

She held a bit tighter to the blade, not wanting to let go, not believing the voice that she was hearing. It couldn't be him...no. It couldn't be. She turned around slowly, her hand not letting go of the dagger, but as soon as she saw her Watcher's face, she heard more than felt the blade clatter to the floor.

"Gi...Giles..."

Without another word being spoken, they moved towards each other, gripping each other tightly, neither wanting to let go, both of them afraid of what might happen if they did.

Buffy had an unnatural fear that if she let go, he would disappear as though he had never even existed. Little did she know, the same thought was in his mind as well.

She wanted to tell him the truth of where she'd been, but she couldn't bring herself to it. How would he react? Would he even want her there, would he do the whole noble, self-sacrificing thing that he always did? She hoped not, but at the same time she had a feeling that he somehow already knew. How he would know, though, was beyond her.

They ever so slowly lessened their grip on the other person, both of them needing to see the other's eyes.

Keeping her hand on his arm, she tried not to let the tears fall. She could feel them building up, and they had been ever since she'd heard him speak her name. She swallowed, keeping her emotions at bay.

He reached out a gentle hand, placing his fingers on her chin and lifting her face so that he could see her eyes...and she broke down.

As she cried in his arms, he moved them both toward the couch, knowing that they would both need the stability. Both of them were emotionally fragile at the moment, and they needed some sort of stability beneath them. He kept his arms tight around her body, maneuvering them so that they sat on the couch side by side.

Buffy was aware of how tightly she was clinging to him, and in the back of her mind it occurred to her that the two of them had only touched each other this way once...when Jenny had died.

It wasn't in the least bit uncomfortable, and that's what was bothering her.

When had this become comfortable? She then realized... It had become that way the instant that she'd known that he was coming back. She'd been wanting to hold onto him for so long, and it scared her. The strength of her emotions was as subtle as a freight train, and she inwardly flinched at the severity of it.

He was everything that she needed…and _wanted_…in a single person. And that was what made it so frightening.

He continued to hold her, one of his hands absently running across her back, attempting to comfort her in the only way that he knew how.

She dug her grip into his shirt, needing the contact to believe that he was really there. He was really there.

Her tears finally stopped and she found herself still not wanting to let go of him. It was more than the fact that he was there for her…it was something else, and she knew it. She would never say the words out loud, but they lingered there, just beneath the surface.

Buffy was well aware that he knew what the words were, but that he would never speak them, either.

Finally, she managed to break the silence that filled the room.

"So…how'd you get here?"

As soon as the words left her lips, she mentally hit herself on the head. She slowly pulled out of the embrace, unable to look him in the eye.

He chuckled slightly and responded with, "Well, I pointed myself west and flapped my arms as hard as I could. It was a lot of work, but I made it."

She began to giggle, and soon it turned into side splitting laughter. Soon, both of them were laughing hysterically, perhaps a bit maniacally, trying to ignore the other emotion that filled the room. The laughter seemed to make things less tense, and it was obvious that he'd made the comment just for that purpose.

Their' laughter died down, and she smiled as she was still able to see a broad smile on his lips. Behind his eyes there was a seriousness about him, but they both ignored it.

She gave him a shy grin, trying not to betray the turmoil she felt inside.

"It's…it's good to see you, Giles." She paused for a moment, looking at his face, and he tried not to squirm under her searching gaze. "I…I missed you."

A hint of a smile graced the corner of his mouth at her admission. _This_ was part of the Buffy that he knew. The uncertain woman still trying to find her way in the world. The look didn't have any expectations, just a hopefulness about it that made his heart swell just a little.

"I missed you, too."

There was a long pause between them, during which he reached out and gently gripped her hand with his own.

There were words that needed to be said, but neither of them was willing to start. Giles knew that it would have to be him. For all of Buffy's skills at fighting, she was truly a pacifist and not one that liked to confront. He would have to break the silence.

"Buffy…I know where you were."

Her eyes snapped up from where they had been staring at their joined hands.

"What? How?"

He hesitated, not sure of how to explain it. He was still fuzzy on the details himself, and this wasn't exactly the best time to admit his true feelings for her, so he pushed forward. Knowing that he was treading on unsteady ground, he chose his words carefully.

"Just an hour ago, I woke up from a dream. There…there was a field…and a tree. You walked down to a fence that crossed the field, and you were told by a young man, in a roundabout way, that you had received your reward. Just as you started to open the gate, you were, you were…"

He found he couldn't finish his sentence. To wake up in a coffin was probably every Slayer's worst nightmare, and the fact that she'd had to go through that…he inwardly shuddered.

Buffy gave him a serious look, obviously aware of what his next words were supposed to have been.

She gently squeezed his hand, trying to silently reassure him, but inwardly she was frozen stiff at his words.

No. It couldn't be possible. That had been _her_ dream. How the hell had he seen it? How the hell had he been able to see what only she knew and no one else did? Suddenly, she remembered when she'd shared dreams with Angel. No…it couldn't be like that situation. Could it?

She chanced a look at him and found him doing what she'd been doing only moments before…staring at their joined hands.

Did she…love him? Was it possible?

She carefully thought about it, absentmindedly running her thumb across the back of his hand.

She already knew that he was her safe haven, her shelter from the storms of life when they got too intense. But was he someone that she could fall in love with? The thought ricocheted around in her mind, giving her pause.

Giles pulled her slightly closer once more, so that they were side by side, legs flush against one another, and she leaned her head on his shoulder, needing the contact.

He then returned her unconscious gesture and brought his other hand up and ran his thumb over her knuckles.

That was when it hit her.

She was already in love with him. Desperately, deeply, and irrevocably. It hit her with all the subtlety of a freight train, and she felt her heart expand in her chest at the realization. How had she never seen it before? It was so blatantly obvious, that she felt as though she'd been blind for years.

Every single time that her world fell to pieces around her, every single time she thought that had nowhere to go…he was there.

Silently, but steadily.

He had given his support for her and stayed for her even when she gave him every good reason to simply leave her.

And then he _had_ left her…but now she understood why. He loved her, too, and the person that initially came out of that grave had not been her. She had been a broken shell, trying to find her way back to where she had been torn from. It must have been torture for him to see her there, but know that she didn't even _want_ to be there.

Silent tears now ran down her cheeks, and without even thinking about it, she lifted their joined hands and placed a soft kiss on the back of his fingers.

Startled at the unexpected gesture, Giles looked down at her and was surprised to see sparkling tracks of wetness down her cheek.

"Buffy…?"

She simple shook her head, and he fell silent. They sat there for a long moment, the only sound in the training room the sound of their breathing.

She tilted her head slightly, moving it so that her ear rested over his chest. She heard the steady _thump-thump_ of his heart and she felt her own heart slow down to match his. He was much like his heartbeat was; steady, unerring, and constant.

"I've really missed you, Giles."

The room was silent.

* * *

**Part 7/?**


End file.
